USxPunk UK Fanfiction: Lost Souls
by Maroon5Lover1
Summary: Modern Day AU! Alfred has just moved to NYC to try to hit it off big as a singer. The problem is, he can't write songs. He only does covers. While singing at a local Cafe, he meets Arthur, a punk god who has already hit it off big. At least locally. Together they will have to work together to become International stars. Rated T.
1. Coffee in the Morning

Alfred walked the streets of NYC early on a Sunday morning. He sipped the Starbucks Cappucino he had just bought not too long ago. He dressed in ripped jeans, a back AC~DC tee, red converse, a large brown jacket,a red scarf, and a black beanie. His glasses were big and black. A guitar sat on the left side of his back, a black book-bag on the other.  
He sighed as he reached the cafe. He had come all the way from Kansas to New York City to make it big with his music. He just had one major issue: he couldn't write music. Sure, he was great at doing covers for different songs, but there was no way he could write his own. After getting the balls to do so, he walked in to the small Cafe: Stacks. It was really early, so there were only a few people there. Alfred only recognized one of them: The old French man who sat in the back and watched him play every morning. His name was Francis. He always dressed real classy, and had long blonde hair that was always tied back in a ribbon to match his suit. Alfred politely waved, and Francis waved back. With a smile, Alfred adjusted a mic, and set up his stool and guitar before sitting down.  
He strummed a few chords, then cleared his throat before starting to sing:  
" _I'm in love with a girl I hate, she enjoys pointing out, every bad thing about me.  
I'm in love with a traitor and a sceptic. I'd trade her I'd trade her in a second."_  
He continued to sing in his beautiful voice. When he was done, Francis clapped for him. Alfred blushed a little and continued to play until his break that afternoon. He proceeded to order a coffee and sat down at the table closest to were he sang so he could keep an eye on his guitar. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open up.  
An average height man walked in. He had blonde hair and thick eyebrows. He wore a black leather jacket, red high tops, black skinny jeans, and a red bandana around his neck. Alfred felt his heart stop and beat again. What the hell? He realised the man had a guitar on his back, an electric one. He was carrying the amp at his side. Wasn't that heavy? The man set his stuff down near where Alfred played. Alfred stood up and went to introduce himself.  
"Do you play here on my breaks?" Alfred asked. He was nervous for some reason.  
"Eh?" He asked. "I must if you're the bloke who plays after me."  
The man was a Brit.  
"I'm Alfred."  
"Arthur. Nice to meet you."  
"You too. Nice Guitar." He said as he watched Arthur take it out. It had the British flag on it.  
"Your's isn't too bad either."  
Alfred shrugged. "Thanks. What kind of stuff do you play?  
"My own stuff."  
Alfred was in awe. This guy was a god compared to him. He couldn't wait to hear him play.


	2. Coffee in the Morning Part 2

Arthur quickly but carefully set up his guitar and amplifier before taking a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. Before he got the chance to even put it in between his lips and light it, the manager saw him.  
"If you want to play, no smoking in doors." She said sternly. She was a young woman, maybe 30, who always dressed in a dress shirt and black slacks with heels. She always looked more like an office lady than a Cafe manager.  
Arthur rolled his eyes and put away the cig. "What a shame. It helps me focus."  
"Doesn't it mess with your singing?" Alfred asked, confused.  
"Just a little." He said before strumming his chords. He began to play.  
" _The Iron Trail is a trail I walk on my own  
I don't need company where I'm goin'.  
Wanna join me, go ahead.  
But I'm the only one who's prepared to be dead._

 _That's right, I'm goin' where the dead rest.  
Goin' to the place unknown.  
Goin' where the dead rest.  
God, forget my soul."_

He continued to sing. His voice was a little raspy, but it was beautiful at the same time. Alfred was still in a state of awe. He and Francis began to clap. A few others, confused, joined in.  
"That was awesome, Arthur! You wrote that yourself?"  
Arthur gave a nod. "It's not too good, I'm afraid. I have to play "Appropriate music"", he used quotations on "Appropriate music" with his fingers. "That's one of the only ones that doesn't swear. Or talk about sex. Or drugs."  
"You're awesome though! I could never write my own songs!"  
Arthur shrugged. "It's nothing too difficult."  
"But it is! It's a real talent."  
"Whatever you say. Wanna come out for a smoke?"  
"Um...no thanks. I'm not a big smoker."  
"Suit yourself." Arthur said and walked out onto the busy sidewalk.  
Alfred couldn't stop thinking about Arthur. He was amazing. Wait, maybe they could work together! That would be so. COOL!


End file.
